


Lancelot and Percival: Itinerant Vampire Hunters

by qwerty



Series: Summerpornathon 2011 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: summerpornathon, M/M, Vampires, Werewolves, how many ways can we fluff a challenge, stuffing as many characters into a limited wordcount as possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-05
Updated: 2011-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:04:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwerty/pseuds/qwerty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Morgana told me she had a run-in with hunters while she and Gwen were LARPing, so we set up a lure to see who was in town."</p><p>(This line does not in fact appear in the story. Damn length limits.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lancelot and Percival: Itinerant Vampire Hunters

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round 3 of Summerpornathon, Challenge 2, Kink Grab Bag.

They spotted the vampire called Arthur almost immediately; even in the dimly lit pub, his fair hair caught the light and shone like a beacon, drawing the eye irresistibly. Lancelot nodded to Percival, making his way through the crowd into hearing range with deliberate casualness while Percival placed himself at a safe vantage point from which he could intervene if necessary.

His target also stood out; a strikingly attractive man, dark-haired and dark-eyed in contrast to his own luminous appearance. The man had a ready laugh and a ridiculously large tankard of ale that probably wasn't his first, and seemed amused by the vampire's arrogant approach at first, flipping his hair from his face with a snort and shaking his head, then reluctantly growing fascinated as the vampire continued to speak to him.

Before Lancelot could reach them and interrupt, the vampire said clearly, "Come with me, Gwaine," and the man blinked, and nodded slowly. The vampire took the man by the hand and led him from the pub without obstruction. No one seemed concerned, or even appeared to notice them, though they moved aside for him before returning to their own conversations without missing a beat. Lancelot found his path blocked several times in this fashion, and cursed. Percival skimmed around the edges of the room and caught up with him at the back door.

In the dark alleyway behind the pub, the vampire had backed his mesmerised victim against the dirty brick wall, and the man had let his head fall back and partly to the side, hands curled slackly around the vampire's shoulders and lips parted by soft pants as he rhythmically thrust his hips against the vampire's.

Lancelot raised a finger, signalling Percival to wait while he gave the alleyway a quick once-over for possible hiding places and escape routes. It wouldn't do to walk into an ambush or fumble and let the vampire get away. He looked back at Percival and hesitated; the younger hunter was watching the vampire and his victim with a look that was like fascination and terror and unwilling arousal at the same time, breath too quick and hands clenched too tightly around his stake. If he moved now, Percival might not be able to react quickly enough to back him up.

"You like this, don't you, rutting in the open, surrounded by rubbish," the vampire was purring as he rubbed his smooth cheek against the man's bearded jaw. "Filthy thing. I should take you back to my place, strip off these dirty rags and put you in the bath, let the water lift all these mortal traces from your skin," he murmured, stroking the man's neck with his thumb. Then he bit down and the man uttered a cry of release, as Percival jerked in sympathy beside him, and Lancelot stepped forward, raising his crossbow.

"Stop right there, my friend," said a familiar voice as the cold end of a gun pushed into his neck from his side, where he was certain there had been no one. "No one is hunting vampires tonight."

Lancelot turned, and his jaw dropped. "Merlin!"

Merlin startled visibly, nearly either pulling the trigger or dropping the gun or both. "Lancelot! What are you doing here? Um, ok, it's kind of obvious. But Arthur's one of the good guys."

Lancelot clapped his hands on Merlin's shoulders, assessing him anxiously. "Are you all right? Forgive my scepticism, but your friend was draining that man! Or is he still...?"

"Oh." Merlin glanced over his shoulder at Arthur, who was licking blood off his lips while Gwaine still leaned too passively against him. "Him, he's a werewolf. He'll be fine in a moment. Who's your friend?"

"I heard through the grapevine that you were having trouble with vampires," Lancelot said, still worried. "Percival here came along to back me up." He indicated the towering young man behind him, who grinned and waved happily at them, then seemed to remember that "them" included a vampire and a werewolf and put on a determined but unconvincing attempt at a fierce scowl.

"Are you sure your friend... Gwaine? will be all right?" asked Percival, still looking slightly conflicted.

Arthur grimaced and blew a loud raspberry. "He was never in any true danger. Werewolves taste like arse."

Gwaine tossed back his head and laughed. "Oh, don't lie to the nice hunters, Sparklypants, you like the taste of arse," and Merlin unaccountably blushed.


End file.
